G-Is for String

Thirteen years in the exotic dance, strip world may have left me with emotional and physical scars. But, what it mostly left me with were stories. Tons of them. Funny, sad, frightening, and eye-opening. Being the only stripper I knew who traveled with a Remington portable typewriter in my costume case, I recorded many along the way. The rest I know by heart.

'G-Is for String' was just waiting for me to work up the courage to write it. During the busiest time of my life, while planning and executing my daughter's wedding, I decided it was a good time to begin the journey of writing professionally. In between sewing backdrops, ordering tablecloths and flowers, planning the buffet tables, and baking wedding cake layers, I started the ponderous project of putting my career in stripping down in writing.

What can I tell you? I like being busy.

The most difficult part of this process was cutting out the fluff. Anything that did not directly relate to the story had to go. As all writers know, this was a monumental task. How do you delete the words you love? Well, you send your manuscript off to an editor who is not emotionally attached to your tale. I am fearfully awaiting the return of a neatly circumcised book.

I had read previous stories about strippers and watched movies that were supposed to be about the lives of strippers. I was still in the business when 'Flashdance', came out and my friends and I laughed all the way through that movie. A welder was probably getting paid a lot more than strippers back in the 1980s, plus she would have had worker's comp and benefits. Pittsburgh, not going topless? Pfft. Not happening. Not believing that stuff.

Pittsburgh, during the 80s, was so raw I barely survived my two-week booking there. The theater I worked at had a feature who would invite the audience members up to the edge of the stage to perform oral sex on her for tips. She didn't pay them- they paid her, to be exact. Good grief. The dance scenes in 'Flashdance', were so phony, only people who had never been to a strip club would believe them. A dancer pouring water all over the stage? Nope. Not believing it. I had to follow a girl who worked barefoot and poured baby powder on the stage. The minute I stepped onto the stage in my spiked heels I slid across the surface like the Zamboni had just finished up. I was furious and the girl never pulled out her baby powder again when we worked together.

Dancers never messed with the stage unless they wanted to get their costumes shredded in the dressing room. The phony, idealistic crap about wanting to join the dance company and actually getting accepted without true classical dance training? That did not and would not ever happen. Dancers in companies had been training since toddlerhood. There is no way a dancer, with no professional training, could keep up with the demands of a real dance company. It would be like living in a foreign land and not speaking the language- literally.

The closest read to a true story about stripping was the book, 'Lonely Lady'. It captured the time between the stage and showed how the constant travel and uncertainty of the job created difficulties in a woman's life. Relationships, family, and security were all sacrificed for the stage. The cost was great for me. So, I recognized the reality of that novel.

I like to make people laugh, even though there were many sad or scary times in my story. So, I've opted for an Erma Bombeck style. If you're too young to remember the silly housewife, you might be more familiar with Lara Croft. A friend of mine suggested my writing was 'Lara Croftish'. I looked her up and he was right. I am snarky and sarcastic. I always have an observation, which I think everyone should read because I am just that smart...assed. That style, hopefully, will soften the harsh parts of my story.

It may be a good read- or it may not. In writing it I've realized just how fortunate I was to get out of that lifestyle alive and am hoping that readers will enjoy it and perhaps gain a bit of perspective on their own lives.